


Drowning

by Jazzkazoo



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Brief Alcohol Mention, Gen, Panic Attacks, aka Wirt isn't good with parties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-03-31 23:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3997753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jazzkazoo/pseuds/Jazzkazoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was funny how you could drown without any water. A room full of people and not a single one realizing you're below the surface.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drowning

**Author's Note:**

> A small one shot with an angsty gnome and his teenage angst bullshit
> 
> Edit: I revised this after writing it like two years ago lmao. Hopefully my writing got better

He didn't know how he had ended up here, but he was sure some mistakes were made along the way.

The sound of pop music was practically blaring in Wirt's ears. It didn't help that he alone, uncomfortable, and cramped in some girls kitchen. The crowd of teens spilling out from Kathleen's house was plain suffocating. If Wirt was to pick one thing that he found to be overwhelming, it would be this entire situation. Turns out large crowds and underage drinking didn't sit well with him.

It also turns out that his life was just full of contradictions. Wirt didn't know how he even got dragged into this mess in the first place. The school wide invite to a party wasn't exactly his cup of tea, but peer pressure had its ways. Not to mention that his mom practically jumped at the idea of him socializing. He couldn't blame her of course. He could see how going out would be considered healthy, even if it meant a little bit of teenage mischief. But just because he could understand the logic of it didn't mean he agreed with it.

The fact that the party was unnerving him only caused to aggravate him more. He was the pilgrim for God's sake. The one who stopped the beast from taking his brother (or at least he thinks so). He was sure that he could handle a stupid high school party.

The feeling of his heart hammering in his rib cage didn't help his case. Wirt was practically plastered to the wall as he had resorted to watching from the sidelines. He tried not to fidget too much, occasionally glancing down at his drink and taking a sip. He was pretty sure the contents of he red solo cup was something that the hosts had stolen from their parent's cabinet. Of course he wasn't planning on drinking too much, but over the past hour he was pretty sure he was on his third refill. He doesn't remember that happening.

Already having lost sight of his friends the minute he arrived to the party, he felt that every living person in the room was eyeing him. Every glance or hushed murmur was surely a testament to just how out of place he is. The rise in popularity from the incident at the lake sure wasn't something he needed. It was hard to blend into a crowd when everyone in a ten mile radius knew you as the kid who almost got stuck in a watery grave. It was hard making conversation when people saw you as the should-be-dead poet kid.

He remembered Sara telling him all the main components to enjoying a party was to be yourself and have fun. Of course she made it sound so easy, especially when she said it in her soft convincing voice that made him feel that all could be with the world. But Sara wasn't here right now. He didn't have her as a crutch. What was he supposed to do? Try to recite a sonnet? What was he supposed to do with his hands? It's not like his clarinet skills could help him at beer pong.

The reek of heavy alcohol caused his nose to crinkle as one of the older senior students stumbled through the crowd and towards the snack table. A guy on the taller side who was on the lacrosse team. What was him name? Chad? Bradley? Something along that vein. He was giggling giddily as he reached for the pretzels before nearly dropping his handful at the sight of Wirt. His face scrunching up as if he was trying to decipher Latin.

"Hey you're the lake kid."

Wirt stood rigid as he stared at the intoxicated teen. Not knowing how to exactly respond to him, because how exactly would you respond to that? There were too many options that seemed like a wrong answer. Instead he took a moment, which seemed like an eternity, to nod yes.

"Wow," he whistled impressively as he leaned against the table for support." Must've been pretty rough. You must be one hell of a swimmer. Sounds badass," he said, trying not to slur his words. His gaze held onto Wirt for another tense moment before his attention snapped back to the pretzels in his hands. The munchies had thankfully overcome his curiosity.

Wirt didn't know why, but the comment rattled him. It was opening up an old wound, to the very memory of floating down to the depths of the lake. He could suddenly feel the cold of the water, the way it filled up his lungs and bit at his skin even though the air was stuffy and warm and it was now nearly June. He was about to gasp for a breath before a sudden cheer broke from the nearby ping pong table. He suddenly didn't feel hungry any more. 

Maneuvering though the hallway was an ordeal, trying not to retch as he passed by a couple making out quite inappropriately against the wall. The loud smacking sounds alone made him want to gag just a little bit. Eventually he found himself in the living room, where teens were scattered about. Lounging on couches or conversing, everyone had found their spot.

Trying to bite back the bitter envy that rose through him as he saw how relaxed everyone seemed, he moved over to an empty spot on the couch, conveniently placed by a guy who was passed out. There was even a little bit drool coming from the corner of his mouth. At least he wouldn't have to make conversation. Maybe he could just sleep through this whole party. People could think he was just some drunk kid who couldn't handle his schnapps.

He resorted to slumping in his seat, trying to make himself as small as possible as people passed by. His eyes were nearly on the brink of fluttering close before the sound of a certain laugh caught his attention. A small group of teens entered the room, joking and laughing about something he couldn't quite hear.

Sara was in the middle of it, along with Funderberker, Rhondi, and some other kids he couldn't quite make out either from the dark or the drink. He couldn't help but both feel a twinge of relief and fear as they came close, not having noticed him yet. He didn't want to be caught in the mortification of sulking alone at a party.

"Oh hey Wirt!" said Sara, her voice cutting through the music as she had caught the sight of him. Her dark hair bouncing as she walked over to Wirt with the others. He could only reply with a meek wave as he awkwardly glanced around at the group, trying to change his posture into something more relaxed, or at least convincing.

"We've been looking for you. We saw you earlier but you ran off," she chuckled as she plopped down on the couch, swishing the contents in her plastic cup a bit. Everyone else found their own seat, giving them some space which was some sort of relief. He wanted to say something back, tell her why he felt like his chest was collapsing. Why he felt like at any moment he was just going to seize and keel over.

Wirt should've been comforted by the fact that his friends were here, but it didn't stop his rising heart rate. The beat pounding rythmically and fast like a snare drum. He shouldn't of been having these issues erupt again. If anything he should've been moving past this, past everything that happened on Halloween. His friends were here now. The Unknown incident was almost six months ago. He forced himself to come to terms that all of it was a stress induced hallucination. For his sake and for the sake of everyone else who felt the annoying need to ask him if he was fine when really he was far from it.

Birds can't talk. There isn't a beast trying to harvest his soul in the form of a tree. His friends don't hate him. And he wasn't going to die. All he needed to do was to stop tapping his foot and take a deep breath.

It didn't settle the panic, and it made his head feel as if it was splitting at the seams. Self doubt seeping into every crack of his resolve. The edelwood branches were wrapping around his heart and tearing him apart from the inside, and if he didn't do something soon he was going to fall to pieces right in the middle of the living room. Right in front of everyone. Right in front of _her_.

He needed to reach the surface.

"Wirt are you alright? You're looking a bit pale," Sara asked suddenly, face clouded with concern as her brows furrowed. Before she could repeat herself, Wirt shot up and bolted out of the living room. Forcing himself through the enveloping sea of people as he dropped his drink to the floor, the sound of Sara calling of his name fading until it was barely there.

He ran outside until he was surrounded by the cool night air and found support against a large, well manicured oak tree in the front yard. He didn't care that he was trampling the delicate flowers in the landscaping, especially as he fell onto his knees and spilled the contents of his stomach onto the ground. 

He didn't have time to feel embarrassed as he rested his back against the tree trunk and away from the pairs of peering eyes that threatened to cut right through him. He was going to sit there until his heart stopped feeling like it was about to burst, until his lungs forgot that they were no longer full of lake water, and until the damn pop music was replaced by the sounds of crickets.

**Author's Note:**

> feedback is always appreciated!!!


End file.
